


Truly a Man's Best Friend

by chucks_prophet



Series: Baby I'm Howlin' For You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: And Sam of Course, Castiel is just like the most amazing thing in his eyes, Dean Loves Dogs, Dogs, Dogs are the Shippers, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Inspired by Music, M/M, Making Out, Pining Dean, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also sorta, but that goes without saying, detailed kissing, music references, some language, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean throws his hand to the back of his neck. What’s a few seconds feels like years the way Dean stares and Cas stares back, and he doesn’t know if Cas is just being polite, but Dean can’t help it on his end. Cas has been hanging out at their house for a couple months now, and during that time, Dean’s getting to know Cas on a personal basis, and learns he might have a diary-worthy crush on him.  This is a continuation of my previous fic, but can be read as a standalone.





	

 

"Why Bones?"

"'Coz he's lazy."

"Oh," Cas says, moving to sit on the couch next to Dean and the newest golden retriever. An addition to the two-person Winchester family, Bones is basking in his name easier than he does the sun out in the backyard. It's obvious he's Sam's dog, the way he'll alternate between couch commander and owner protector, standing in front of Sam, the six foot-something, pure muscle and lean as the beans he eats who can easily handle himself. It's adorable anyhow, though. "Cool."

"I know, you were probably expecting something a little more rock n' roll, but Sam wouldn't let me name him Arm, so.”

"Arm?" Cas mulls it over with a cringe. "That's a little more... specific, I guess."

Dean laughs, "No, no, after Mark Arm."

Cas continues to ogle Dean like he's the first man to be made of something other than flesh and bone.

"Dude, _Mark Arm_ ,” Dean emphasizes, “Alice in Chains."

Cas narrows his eyes.

"C'mon, you gotta at least know 'Them Bones'." Dean leans in and whispers, "That's how I got away with Sam letting me name the dog Bones."

Cas shakes his head, blushing. "Sorry."

"Seriously?!"

"Dean, not everyone likes grunge rock," Sam interrupts from the kitchen, which, ironically but unsurprisingly, is where the peanuts are stored.

"Speak for yourself, hair rock!"

"Jessie would've been a _way_ better name!" Sam argues.

"No, because then you're romanticizing Jessie, and not the _girl_."

"Wow," Cas chuckles, "I'm afraid to ask how Riot got his name."

"'It's a cool name," the brothers say at the same time.

Cas's lips turn up in a smile. "Obviously."

Dean throws his hand to the back of his neck. What’s a few seconds feels like years the way Dean stares and Cas stares back, and he doesn’t know if Cas is just being polite, but Dean can’t help it on his end. Cas has been hanging out at their house for a couple months now, and during that time, Dean’s getting to know Cas on a personal basis, and learns he _might_ have a diary-worthy crush on him.

Dean wishes he could return the favor and spend more time at Cas’s house, but Cas’s cat destroys every defense Dean’s immune system has, and, well, it’s hard to have an engaged conversation when he’s sneezing every few seconds, and Dean’s the kind of person who feels guilty just using all of Cas’s Benadryl.

He makes a mental note to stock up on Benadryl.

"Okay, I'm off,” Sam announces, grabbing his coat from the island barstool.

Dean hops from the couch. “Whoa, whoa, where are you going?"

"I’m going out with Eileen, remember.”

"No, I really don’t.”

The rest of their conversation is nothing but a series of unremitting eye contact and wild body language.

Sam drops his head and stares up at Dean through heavily-lidded hazel eyes. _I know I don't have a date, idiot, you do._

Dean purses his lips and tilts his head to the side. _What’re you talking about?_

 _Hello, I’m leaving the house to you to do whatever._ Sam’s eyes widen as he swivels his head in a circle before smacking his lips. _Jesus, Dean, you aren't this dense when you bring girls home._

Dean crosses his arms. _Sam, don't objecti—_ He interrupts himself with the quick roll of his eyes. _Fine._

Sam’s own eyes narrow. _Fine?_

Dean waves him away. _That's fine. Leave me alone. You'll see how responsible I am._ "Jerk." Dean says the last part aloud.

Sam scoffs, "Bitch."

Then the door shuts and he and Cas are two men on an island, the couch being their island, and everything else being the water, save for the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedrooms, which are lifeboats, should he need them, that only take him so far from shore and last him so long before he has to go back to help Cas.

Luckily, Cas throws him a lifejacket: “Hair rock?” he asks, mouth curving into a smile.

“Yeah,” Dean says sitting back down, though it’s merely a word trapped in breath he lost in all the gawking, “the kid’s a huge fan. I didn’t come to find out until we were in our mid-twenties—well, _I_ was, anyway. By then it was too late to help him.”

Cas laughs, “You make it sound like he’s robbing people or something.”

“He is! Robbing _good_ artists, that is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m honest is what I am.”

Cas turns his head shyly to Dean, “I can’t really judge. I had a thing for Bret Michaels.”

“But that’s different.”

“How do you figure?”

“ _Everyone and their brother_ had a thing for Bret Michaels,” Dean says.

Cas’s eyes widen to the size of two large blueberries as a scoff escapes him, “You liked Bret Michaels?”

“Who? Me?” Dean asks, swiveling behind him as if there’s a third party listening in. Then he waves his hand. “No, no, I was talking about _Sam._ I don’t crush on anyone with a better jawline than me.”

Next to him, Cas snickers.

Dean can’t help smile the way Cas’s whole face lifts and his nose crinkles the tanned skin around it when he laughs like that, despite he and fear joining in bitter matrimony as to what he’s laughing _at_ , “What?”

“Lips too,” Cas says.

Dean tilts his head, then realizes. Laughing, he pushes Cas back into the sofa.

Of course, there’s the small factor that Bones is still sitting behind Cas—no, not sitting, _sleeping,_ because he yelps and bumps into Cas hard trying to hop down. Cas falls forward into Dean’s chest with little grace. Dean tries steadying him, which, during a longer-than-life-itself moment where Cas stares up at him like a church mouse caught under a stained-glass window, is unfair when Dean feels like _he’s_ the one falling face-first.

Maybe he is.

Maybe he has been.

And maybe, just maybe, Cas has a parachute he can borrow.

His mind’s set, but his heart pounds to catch up when Dean leans the rest of the way and kisses Cas. It’s chaste at first, giving Cas time to pull back, but Cas wastes no time responding and learning how to lick into the seam of Dean’s mouth in ways Dean’s never known possible.

It’s not a hungry exchange, but it’s just as passionate—and all too quick as Riot starts barking in the background.

Dean can’t tell if it’s encouragement or envy, so he beckons Riot over. Riot jogs over and plops himself happily onto Dean’s lap. Dean laughs and rubs the top of his head and behind his ears. “Still think my lips are second-rate?” he asks, turning to Cas with a smirk.

Cas silences his smartassery with another kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I now realize the "Jerk" and "Bitch" lines are mixed up, but I think it ended up suiting the story quite well :P


End file.
